


Not his time

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:05:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another 221B - Mrs Hudson calls for some help...</p>
<p>You should read "<i>Not his place</i>" first (See notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not his time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Not his place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085725) by [WastingYourGum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum). 



Her apologies faded behind him as he climbed the seventeen steps. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't know who else to call."

"It's fine, Mrs Hudson."

It was so _very_ far from fine. He hadn't been to the flat in months, now here he was, kneeling by the sofa, patching up the battered figure lying on it. Just like old times, except it was blood-matted grey hair not black.

Lestrade stayed silent until John was nearly finished when he said, "I saw him, John."

"Who?"

"Sherlock. I saw him."

"What? When? _Where_?"

"Earlier, Waterloo Bridge. He said not to."

"Not to what?"

"Jump. I said he had, so why should I listen t'him? Know what he said?"

John swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. "What?"

"Said he was wrong. That's how I knew it wasn't really him, just my fucked up head playing tricks on me. Christ, he looked so _real_ though."

"So why didn't you?"

"He wouldn't stop bloody _staring_ at me. That 'How fuckin' thick are you?' look of his."

John remembered it well. He'd give anything to see it again.

It sounded like Sherlock's ghost wanted to keep Lestrade alive. So what did it mean that John had never seen him when he sat in the dead of night, cradling his gun and staring down the barrel?


End file.
